Dsiclaimer: I don't own Princess Tutu
He drums his fingers restlessly on the desk.
She wrings her hands and clenches them into fists.
He takes out a pen and taps it lightly to paper.
No words yet.
She plays with her necklace and grips at her pendant.
A dull shine.
He sighs.
No ideas?
Maybe a walk outside.
He walks out into the hallway.
She groans.
Can't think straight.
Maybe some fresh air.
She steps out into the hallway.
Step, step, step.
Step, step, step.
A boy passes a girl.
A girl passes a boy.
The slightest touch of fingertips.
Flushed face.
Red, rosy cheeks.
Next time, their hands will touch.
But for right now, that red string connecting them is good enough.